Trabian Liquor
by Tilmitt
Summary: Squall is overstressed and hasn't slept for days.


**A/N:** This is my first FF8 fic (and the first thing I've written in months), inspired by my love of Squinoa and hurt/comfort. It hasn't been beta read, so it's a bit rough. Forgive mistakes of any kind that may be lurking (bonus points if you point them out for me!)

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><p><strong>Trabian Liquor<strong>

Squall threw down the stack of papers in front of him and buried his face into his palms. A quick glance at the clock on his desk told him he had been sorting through reports for six hours. Being a high ranking SeeD commander had its perks, but sometimes Squall just wanted to hand the responsibility to someone else. For the past few months an odd feeling had overtaken him. It felt like...he didn't know. Just, hollow and robotic.

Or something. Squall was never good at describing feelings. All he knew is that he either wanted to sleep for a year or up and run far, far away from Balamb and not look back.

"Whatever," he murmured to himself. It was time to call it a day. He arranged the neat stacks of paper into some semblance of order and stood up and stretched his stiff body with a groan. He felt like he hadn't moved an hours. Come to think of it, he always felt that way anymore. 'Must be the stress', he told himself as he slipped his jacket over his shoulders and shuffled out of his office.

Really, all Squall could think about on his way back to his room was grabbing a shot or six of his favorite Trabian liquor and maybe falling asleep on the couch so as not to wake Rinoa. Or maybe he'd crawl into bed with Rinoa, bury his face in her hair, and sleep peacefully.

Not likely.

He climbed into the elevator and clumsily hit the first floor button. As he rode down, he buried his palms into his eye sockets with a little more force than necessary. The elevator groaned to a stop, and Squall stood motionless against the glass wall for a few moments before getting enough momentum to walk out.

When he got into his room, it was predictably dark and silent. Instead of heading straight for the bottle of liquor like he'd originally planned, he walked over to the open door of the bedroom and watched Rinoa's chest rise and fall as she slept. Her dark hair sprawled out over the pillows and her hands lay curled underneath her chin. She looked completely at peace, despite there being a small, almost unnoticeable frown playing across her face.

The sight gave Squall a sick, lonely feeling in the pit of his stomach for reasons he couldn't explain. He gave a small, sad quirk of his lips and turned away.

The first shot burned his throat, but he just closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose until the feeling melted into warmth in the base of his spine. He set the bottle and the glass down on the counter and shucked off his boots, jacket, and belts haphazardly on the back of a chair. He got comfortable on the couch, lying back with one leg on the floor, and poured himself another shot.

Before long, the bottle was quite a bit emptier and Squall felt a pleasant, warm thrum throughout his body. In Squall's alcohol-addled brain it felt like a metaphor for something, but he didn't care to think it out. He still felt that sinking, trapped feeling he was trying to avoid. He threw his forearm over his eyes and sighed, sinking into the couch.

"Squall?"

He turned to the sound of his name. Rinoa stepped out from the bedroom, watching Squall with a neutral-edging-on-worried expression. Squall tried to smile at her, but by the way her eyes changed he knew it must have looked as fake as it felt.

"Hey," he greeted solemnly. Rinoa sat on the couch by his hips and laid her hand on his stomach. He closed his eyes and felt his body relax against her touch, much to both of their surprise. It had taken him a while to learn to accept comfort and closeness, and even longer to enjoy it. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I was already awake," she answered. He noticed her eyes trail over to the bottle, but she didn't seem to be fazed by it. "You put too much pressure on yourself. You don't have to do it all alone, you know."

Their eyes met.

"I know," he almost whispered, closing his hand around hers and pulling her to lay across his chest. "I know." She shifted around until she was lying between his legs with her face buried in his neck. He let out a shaky breath and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders. She squeezed the hand holding hers and kissed his collar bone through his t-shirt.

"Go to sleep, Squall."

He slid his hand up her neck into her hair and kissed the top of her head. For the first time in days, he felt his eyes slip shut.


End file.
